The Blood Flows Again: The 77th Hunger Games
by writing-noobie
Summary: A collaborative story written by Writing-Noobie, Xylia Ren, Awsomazing11, Androidileyna, Cronomon, Team Shadow, IAmASonOfPoseidon, Aspect1, ShadowDragon654, Incubiis, Fantasymoon1, Shadow bender 727 and MasonAllenKuppler!
1. Prologue and an unexpected guest

**Hello Hunger Games fans! The authors for this story can be found in the description. I have spots left open to write so if you want to be considered please PM me with the remaining spots in the order that you want to write them. The remaining spots are 5, 8, 9, 10 ,11 , 12 and 13. Now on to the story! **

**President Yew,**

I sat in my office in a secret room in the capital finishing up plans for retaking Panem. A distant explosion shook the ground and I knew that the soon to be _former_ Government had unwittingly walked into one of my _many _fake hideouts. As you can tell, they're filled with explosives. A buzzer on my desk um, buzzed, I pushed a button and opened a video chat to the guard room of my secret base.

"Sir, someone is here to see you," says the head of my _personal _soldiers. "He claims to be your informant to the Districts."

I sigh, purely out of boredom. "Send him in," I say.

A few minutes later my informant tromps in. "Sir, communications are down in districts 12 and 11. Districts 6, 7 and 13 have organized a army lead by Johanna Mason and Districts 3 and 5 have implanted computer chips in all our vehicles causing them to explode," He says.

I don't even bother to grace the pestilence of a resistance with a scowl. I'll eventually crush them anyway. And I'm right, I do…

**Two weeks later**

I stand in front of the cheering Capital crowd. Every so often, there'll be a loner standing by themselves scowling at the announcement. Oh well, if they try to stop me now then they'll get what they deserve. I smile out to the rejoicing crowd and wave.

"Hello Citizens of New Panem!" I speak into the microphone. "Today begins a new Golden age where the citizens of the districts will be punished with another round of… The Hunger Games!" I smile sadistically into the camera for effect. And to commemorate the last time this announcement was made, this year's tributes shall play… In the first arena ever made!"

I grin and watch as confusion sets on most of the faces. There isn't a lot of people who know what the first arena is. _Well, they'll know soon _I smirk at the thought.

"And now to introduce my Second-in-command, New head Game maker and my personal Informant. Gale… Hawthorne!" I see jaws dropping and everyone's to shocked to clap. I send a glare at them and they plaster fake smiles on their faces and cheer. I smile, satisfied, and walk back into my mansion.

**Gale Hawthorne – 1 month later **

You're probably wondering, why would I fight for the Capital? Well, here's your answer. Last time I was motivated. I knew if I didn't fight that my little Catnip might die. So I put my life at stake protecting her and helping her bring down the Capital and she repays me by choosing _him_. This time I _was _going to fight for her again but then… Vick died and I realized that they were going to win anyway, so why try and stop them. By joining their army I could be on the winning side and protect Rory at the same time. And once I rose to power I could get back at the _stupid _Girl on Fire and her _wonderful _Boy with the Bread.

When I joined, I gave Yew three conditions: Peeta's tortured to death which I get a recording of, Katniss made into a Avox for me, and a position as Head Gamemaker. I'm watching the first of many tapes of Peeta being tortured right now. I also made sure to get Katniss to see it.

I swivel my head around and grin evilly at Katniss. I get up and walk over to her and stroke her cheek to anger her. "Enjoying the movie I see, Catnip dearest," I say putting as much venom into the words as possible.

She narrows her eyes at me and bites my hand. I growl and stalk back to the couch, but not before slapping her across the face. I pick up my communication device and speak into it. "Make the tortures tomorrow extra painful, I have a feeling someone needs the motivation," I chuckle before I sit back down and continue watching.

**AHHHHHH! GALE IS EVIL! And I mean no offense to GalexKatniss shippers. That's my favorite ship in the series. Well, after AnniexFinnick of course. I just wanted to make it run with the series.**


	2. District 1 reapings Xylia Ren

**Well, it's time for the Reapings. This chapter is written by Xylia Ren. Check her profile out, she's a pretty good author. Also throughout the Reapings/goodbyes/train ride chapters I would appreciate it if you filled out this form below for each of the Characters.**

**Tributes name:**

**Tributes author:**

**Then answer these on a scale of 1-5**

**Chance of surviving:**

**Chance of getting sponsers**

**Chance of getting a kill:**

**How much do you want to see this tribute?:**

**Thanks! Now onto the chapter! Oh wait, one last thing. Just because you're not writing doesn't mean you can't review, k? k. OH ONE MORE THING! In most of the chapters the author will include a quote. If you can identify which line the quote is you get one point. If you can identify who said it and where is was said if it's from a book or musical then you get 5 points. Whoever has the most points when the first Training chapter is posted gets the Bloodbath list before anyone else. 3=-].**

**D1: Keilani Laughlin**

My twin sister Araceli and I walked into our uncle's house just as our cousin was walking down the stairs.

"Hey Reilly," We chirped at the same time. Reilly rolled his eyes, "Don't you two ever get tired of talking at the same time?"

"Never," We replied, grinning at our older cousin.

"Come on then, Dad's waiting for us." We all hurried down into the basement of the large house. My uncle Jordan was leaning up against some mats.

"Ok gang, it is Reilly's final session so let's make it special." Uncle Jordan boomed. We all scattered to our preferred weapons; Araceli grabbed a scythe and swung it around her, Reilly took a crossbow and headed to the targets, and I grabbed a glittering golden whip and cracked it.

I quickly got to work beheading practice dummies, the canvas they are covered with was soon destroyed but I wanted more.

I grabbed Reilly and we started sparring. He made the first move, a jab at my side with his sword. I blocked it easily with the hilt of my long knife and kicked him in the chest. Within minutes I had Reilly begging for mercy, I didn't back down until my uncle grabbed me and pulled me away from Reilly.

When we finished training for the day we had come to an agreement that Reilly was going to volunteer this year and bring glory to the Laughlin family. What they didn't know was what I was planning.

I had hoped that this day had been coming since we started training when I was only 9. My uncle had been paranoid that the Hunger Games would be coming back, so he decided to start secretly training me, Araceli and Reilly. He was right and the Capitol managed to regain control after 15 years of plotting.

I slipped into my cream coloured dress and put my dark brown, leather belt at my waist. I ran a brush through my –almost— waist length, platinum blond hair and fingered the curls. I looked in my full length mirror, my gold streak stood out against my hair and the colour of my dress, my blue eye twinkled and the green one sparkled at me.

Araceli walked up behind me, I turned to face her. The only things that distinguish me from my twin are that my right eye is blue and my left eye is green while her right eye is green and her left eye is blue, also to make things easier for our friends and family, her streak is silver.

I entered the District Center with Araceli beside me and our parents trailing behind us. I spotted my friends; Kyla, Lillianna and Fleur standing by the sign in desks.

"So are you planning on volunteering this year?" Lilli asked me. I made my face contort like I was thinking about it.

"Maybe," I replied, Kyla and Fleur both sighed; I knew that they didn't want me to but they don't control me. I don't even control me all of the time, I'm ADHD and a little ball of energy. A vicious, murdering ball of energy.

We signed in and got to the 17 year old section, I couldn't wait for the reaping to start already. Finally our escort walked onto the stage.

"Heeeeeeeeellllloooo, District 1! I am your escort Mayella Gripes" The escort shouted, her high pitched voice blared out loudly into the District Center and I cringed. She looked kind of like a fairy with upturned eyes, pointed ears and sharp features. She was only 4'7" and very slender. "As you all know, the Hunger Games has been reinstated by the new government. So we must select the tributes who will compete in the 77th Hunger Games!"

The reaping balls had been placed directly on the stage and Mayella fluttered over to the reaping ball with the glittering cursive label _Girls_ on it.

I took at deep, calming breath. When Mayella opened the seal on the piece of paper and read out the name I smirked.

"Kyla Burgundy." My friend stifled a gasp and shuddered as Peacekeepers grabbed her shoulders. She stood on the stage next to Mayella, looking desperately out at the crowd. She caught my eye and I could tell she wanted me to volunteer for her. I widened my eyes and shook my head slightly. Her eyes filled with tears as Mayella asked if there were any volunteers.

"I volunteer." I said calmly and sauntered up to the stage. Kyla slumped down and rushed off the stage with a whispered thanks.

"And what is your name sweetie?" Mayella asked.

"My name is Keilani Laughlin and that was one of my best friends." I said in a sweet voice and smiled innocently out at the crowd.

**D1: Reilly Laughlin**

After training I hopped into the shower. The hot water pattered down on my back and felt soothing on my now aching muscles. Keilani may be my cousin but she has absolutely no mercy. She will beat anyone into the ground.

I got out of the shower and dried my blond hair. I pulled on khaki pants and a light blue polo then left my room. Jasper was sitting at the kitchen table eating a biscuit. He smiled when he saw me.

"Hey little bro." I said, ruffling his hair. He laughed and tackled me with a hug.

"Come on Jasper, we need to head down to the District Center for the reaping, let's go." I told him, he grabbed his shoes and slid them on. I quickly glanced in the mirror and fixed my hair, it is slightly curly and always falls in my blue eyes but I can't stand to cut it.

I helped my little brother sign in and made sure he was ok with the other 14 year olds. Then I searched for my friends. I saw them standing by a tree not too far from the sign in desk.

"Hey man." Tristan said as I walked over to them.

"I think I'm volunteering today." I said.

"You think?" Asked Aiden.

"Well my dad wants me to and I'd like to _but what if I'm not good enough_?" I whispered the last part.

"If you reach for the stars, you just might land on a decently sized hill." Tristan said, patting me on the back. I smiled at him.

"Let's sign in now." Aiden said, "The escort will be here soon."

I stood with all of the other 18 year old boys, watching as our escort flew onto the stage.

"Heeeeeeeeellllloooo, District 1! I am your escort Mayella Gripes. As you all know, the Hunger Games has been reinstated by the new government. So we must select the tributes who will compete in the 77th Hunger Games!" Mayella chirped. She was very, very small so when she reached the reaping ball for the girls they were on the ground.

"Kyla Burgundy." Mayella announced. Kyla was one of Keilani and Araceli's friends, I recognized her from school.

"Are there any volunteers?" Mayella asked the crowd.

"I volunteer." I wasn't totally surprised to hear the voice of my cousin. Keilani walked onto the stage and introduced herself with a sweet smile.

"Now for the boys." Our district escort fluttered over to the boys reaping ball and plucked out a name.

"Rye Anderson." A small, thirteen year old quivered in his section. I met Keilani's gaze, _Come and get it you big oaf,_ she seemed to be taunting.

"I volunteer!" I shouted and walked quickly to the stage.

"What is your name?" Mayella asked me, I am 6'2" so I towered over her even more than I generally tower over people.

"I'm Reilly Laughlin and no, Keilani is not my sister, she's my cousin." I stated. I shook hands with Keilani and was led into the Justice Building.


	3. Tribute list

**Oh by the way I decided to post a list of the authors and their tributes. =].**

**The tributes are:**

**Characters:**

**District 1: Xylia Ren**

**Male: Reilly Laughlin - age 18**

**Female: Keilani Laughlin - age 17**

**District 2: Cronomon**

**Male: Rook Temat - Age 16**

**Female: Kala Agil - age 15**

**District 3: Androidileyna**

**Male: Leon Sirtis - age 13**

**Female: Sepheria Kitain - age 15**

**District 4: Awsomazing11**

**Male: Finnick Odair Jr. - age 16**

**Female: Charolatte 'Lottie' Redway - age 14**

**District 5: ShadowDragon654**

**Male: Valintine Dominiano - age 16**

**Female: Starling Widow - age 14**

**District 6: Team Shadow**

**Male: Gavin Pulido - age 15**

**Female: Maebry Donner - age 14**

**District 7: Writing-Noobie**

**Male: Axel Treefall - age 18**

**Female: Juniper Griffin - age 17**

**District 8: Incubiis**

**Male: Pan Vicomte - age 17**

**Female: Soraira Eloitz - age 15**

**District 9: Aspect1**

**Male: Rowena Maple - age 17**

**Female - Lember Rye - age 18**

**District 10: Fantasymoon1**

**Male: Peter Joshua Rosewood - age 16**

**Female: Talia Anne Rosewood - age 16**

**District 11: IAmASonOfPoseidon**

**Male: Sam Allen - age 14**

**Female: Nala Jacobs - age 17**

**District 12: Initia nova**

**Male: Declan Jones - age 16**

**Female: Sarracenia Edark - age 15**

**District 13: MasenAllenKuppler**

**Male: Kurt Sanders - age 15**

**Female: Violet Tesla - age 12**


	4. D2 reapings Cronomon

**Hello, I believe a few of you may like this chapter the tributes are very... interesting... HAHAHAHA -cough cough- ow, my throat.**

**Readers: I still need people to write 12 and 13 so PM if you want to. Also, please fill out the forms and review! I know that people are reading it because I looked at the traffic stats.**

**Authors: GO TO THE FORUM! I KNOW I SENT EVERYONE THE LINK! DO IT! NOW!**

**Rook Temat - age 16, Kala Agil - age 15**

"Yo, Rook! Be a pal and get me some water, yeah?" the muscly seventeen-year-old smiled amiably as he wiped off his sweat with a towel. "Sparring takes a heck out of a guy."

Rook returned the smile warmly. "Sure thing, Klein." He hurried over to where the water coolers were and fished out a cold bottle. Checking to make sure it was full, he ran back and offered the older boy the drink.

"Thanks, bro!" Klein took it gratefully and squeezed the bottle so that a steady stream of water flew straight into his mouth. When he was finished, he tossed the empty bottle back to Rook and wiped his mouth with a satisfied noise. "Ah, that hit the spot." Turning back to his friends, he called, "Who's up for another round?"

Rook turned and dropped the bottle into a nearby trashcan. He then looked around expectantly. It wasn't long before someone else called him over to fetch him a clean towel. He obliged immediately, handing his district-mate a fresh towel with a bright smile on his face.

_Do they really think this last-minute training is going to help them? At this point you're either prepared for battle or not._

"Hey, Rook!"

He turned around to face two eighteen-year-olds, both glaring fiercely at each other.

"Tell this moron that if anyone's got a chance at winning these Games it's me," one of them growled.

"I think you mean _me_, buddy," the other returned.

Rook smiled neutrally. "You both seem really strong, though. It's impossible to choose." The two looked ready to turn their anger onto him when he added, "Wouldn't the best way to settle this be to fight each other? Then it'd be obvious who's the stronger one."

He left the two brawling in the center of the training area. The reaping was going to start soon and he didn't want to get caught in the stampede of Careers trying to get closest to the stage.

_Now wouldn't it be an interesting plot twist if I volunteered today and got chosen? No one would expect it. Especially if I won._

Not that he was going to volunteer, anyway. He wasn't particularly loud, and admittedly he was a bit small for his age, only standing at five feet and four inches. The other boys would easily drown him out.

How presumptuous of them. Insects calling out as though they thought they were actually better than a dragon.

Of course, he couldn't blame them for having such a false impression. All his life Rook had been playing along to others' expectations. Molding his character so that he could become someone who got along with everyone, Rook had successfully escaped being picked on for being a runt. Kala called him a pig-mole (although he couldn't even begin to guess what that meant in the first place) but hey, in this world it was survival of the fittest, and the ability to adapt to any situation definitely helped. That, and the fact that humans were just so predictable. It always seemed to him that whatever they did they were just begging to be manipulated by some greater force. No wonder the Capitol had taken charge so easily.

His parents wanted him to be a Career and train for the Games, so of course Rook obliged. His district-mates expected him to be a gofer, running around and doing whatever he was told, so of course Rook obliged. Getting along with everyone really just made life that much easier, didn't it? He'd trained, and he'd followed orders, so all that was left to do was play the Games, kill everyone, return, and kill everyone.

Things were just so simple in this dog-eat-dog world, especially if you were someone as high up as Rook.

/~/~/

"Rook~ you've got that disciplinary committee look on your face, again."

"Good morning, Kala. You've been telling me that for the past five years and I still don't know what that means."

"In that case don't worry about it," Kala waved a hand dismissively. "So did you make sure Klein and the others get everything they wanted today?"

"They're as happy as lobsters in boiling water."

"That doesn't sound happy at all."

"Exactly. They have no idea that death is approaching them. Very quickly, too."

Kala laughed cheerfully. "Aw, you little sadist, you. Just remember, Rook: your drill is the drill that will pierce the heavens!" She winked and gave him a thumbs-up and a sharp-toothed grin.

"Thank you," Rook said politely. "I reinstate what I said earlier to you after my greeting."

The town center was beginning to fill up, and the escort had actually already arrived on stage. Currently she was just humming to a strange little song as she waited for the rest of District 2 to arrive.

"A Capitol song," Kala said. "Not very catchy. But I did download some of their stuff last week."

"Did you? You never told me."

"I didn't think you'd care."

Well, she had a point there. It was incredibly irrelevant to Rook what kind of music his friend listened to. With this in mind, he decided to change the subject to something both of them could actually talk about.

"Anyway, who do you think is going to be chosen this year as the tribute?"

Kala thought for a moment. "Klein's super loud so maybe him. As for girls, it'll be me."

"You're volunteering?" This was certainly news to him. "You never told me that, either."

"I didn't think you'd care."

Well, she sure didn't have a point there. "Of course I would. If you left I'd be all alone for at least two weeks until you returned."

Kala blinked, looking as though she'd only just thought of that. "Oh…" After a few moments, she shrugged it off and grinned. "Then I'll be sure to come back before two weeks are even up."

/~/~/

The escort was a little scary looking, but that didn't bother Kala. No way, she was totally used to weird-colored hair and huge eyes that were disproportionate to the face. Anyway, the lady up on the stage was talking about some stuff that didn't really matter in the overall scheme of life and then she finally went ahead to pick up a piece of paper from the bowl.

Immediately all the girls around Kala launched into an eerie chant of, "I volunteer! I volunteer! Pick me or else I'll bring shame to my family and die curled up in a corner of tears and dishonor!"

Or something like that.

Pathetic, in Kala's opinion. If they wanted to get chosen they had to say something that would make them noticed.

Something like…

"VOOOOOOOOIIIIII!"

Somewhere in the crowd, Rook hung his head.

"Don't underestimate me!" the blue-eyed girl declared. She swept her gaze along the crowd, now able to look down on them as she stood on the stage. "Time, space, or alternate realities – those mean nothing to me! I'll pierce the path before me along with the methods you've chosen! That's who I am: Kala Agil!"

/~/~/

Kala was already on the stage so it was pretty much impossible to get her off. Eventually the escort gave up and announced her as the female tribute of District 2.

None of the other girls in the district looked particularly amused.

Personally Rook thought it was pretty hilarious, if not ridiculously stupid.

"Now on to the boys," the escort chirped happily.

Immediately everyone around Rook tensed, giving the atmosphere a very unpleasant feel. Rook shifted uncomfortably. Soon he'd be surrounded by a bunch of loud, annoying, sweaty people all calling out for a chance to get killed. Because obviously it was Kala coming back, and not any of them. Seriously, he couldn't believe these insects were going to sign their own death wish.

Without any dramatic pause or anything, the escort thrust her hand into the bowl and pulled out a piece of paper, reading off as quickly as she could,

"Rook Temat!"

… Wait, seriously?

"I volunteer!" cried the crowd.

The group of eighteen-year-olds were pushing and shoving each other to get to the front, all of them shouting over each other in an attempt to be noticed. Rook watched them in amusement as he walked up the stairs to the stage. What idiots.

"And you are?" the escort sounded suspicious.

Was she a Capitol idiot as well?

"Rook Temat. You called my name just now so I'm here."

"Oh?" the escort raised a well-trimmed eyebrow and then gestured over to the rest of the district. "And what about all these fine young men who wished for a chance to volunteer?"

… _What _about_ them?_ "I don't need anyone to volunteer for me. If I want to join the Games I'm joining the Games."

Those were the rules, after all, weren't they? Or was Rook missing something? Kala was laughing, but she was always laughing, and the escort actually turned a weird shade of red but regardless she returned to the front of the stage and announced the District 2 tributes.

Wow, if anything his district looked kind of pissed. Probably 'cause everyone thought Kala was a freak and he was a weakling. Well, thanks for the support, guys. He'd definitely be doing his best for them.

"Only one of us makes it out alive, partner," Kala said cheerfully when it came time for them to shake hands.

Rook only smirked back. "Sorry, Kala, but it's going to be me."


	5. District 3 reapings Androidilenya

**Hello readers and Authors! This chapter should be exciting! The girl is one of my fav tributes. Even more then my own! She's very... Interesting... MWAHAHAHA *cough* Ow, my throat *cough***

**Sephiria Kitain, District Three**

I have a secret.

And no, it isn't some cute little girl secret like 'Ohh, I have a total crush on that handsome boy next door'. It isn't even an older girl secret like 'I slept with my boyfriend and he got me pregnant.' (for the record, I've never _had_ a boyfriend). It's a dark secret. It's scary. It's something I would _never_ tell anyone ever- because this secret is ugly.

I can't tell anyone because of what would happen to me if anyone found out.

And today is my chance to get away from here before anyone discovers my secret.

It's so sunny today, like nature is mocking us. Telling us that our sadness is inconsequential, that while we may grieve the world goes on, uncaring. But today is the day that everyone dreads- Reaping day.

I know what I have to do today. It's the obvious solution, and it's hardly as though anyone will care. Mother's been buried for years now, and Father... well, that's part if my secret, see. He's why I have to leave. Him and... what I did. To him.

I slept downstairs again, because it's strangely comforting there amid the remains of my crime. I slept next to _him_, too, like he's forced me to so many times. Only this time I was the one in control. I was the one that held all the power, for a change.

The purple dress he always disapproved of is crumpled in the back of the downstairs closet, the one that doesn't even reach my knees. If he saw me putting on he'd have made me take it off immediately, but he can't tell me no today. Or ever, for that matter.

I make myself a bowl of cereal and, after a moment of thought, make my father one too. Then I drag him from the living room, grunting under his weight, and prop him up in his chair, 'cause it's nice to eat as a family, isn't it?

He's starting to smell a bit funny, after three days, and the dark stain on the front of his shirt is still there. I washed the kitchen knife, though, and the floor, too, 'cause Dad is always such a neat freak. He'd have nothing to complain about here- the tile floor's freaking _spotless_.

"Good morning, Daddy," I say cheerfully, pulling up my chair and sitting down. "Guess what today is?"

No response- not that I expect one.

"It's Reaping Day! Fun, huh?" I glance at my wrist, then remember that my watch stopped last week. Disappointed, I scan the room for a clock. My eyes land on that clunky gold monstrosity that he always wears on his left wrist and I brighten. "Can I borrow that? Like, forever? Thanks!"

I reach over the table and unstrap it from his wrist, feeling his cold flesh against my fingers. Then I decide I've eaten enough- two bites is plenty, thank you very much- and carry my bowl into the kitchen, where I dump the rest down the drain. I leave Dad's where it is, though. Maybe he'll eat it, even though he hasn't eaten any of the other food I've made him lately. I wonder why.

A strange thought pops into my head at this point, and though I dismiss it immediately it's slightly disturbing.

_He can't eat that food, Sephiria- he's dead._

"Ridiculous," I mutter, checking my hair in the hall mirror. Of course I know it's true- I'm the only one who knows, except for him- but ti doesn't bother me. Besides, it's nice pretending everything's normal.

Another, more easily manageable thought strikes me. With my hair like this, I look too much like that old picture of my mom that Dad keeps in his room. And long hair is just no _fun_. There's an obvious solution to that, of course.

I prance back into the kitchen, reveling in the way my dress reveals flashes of my pale thighs as my legs move. Daddy usually never lets me out of the house in outfits like this- I wonder why he's changed his mind today? Must be 'cause it's Reaping Day.

The shiny steel knife is still in the drawer, right where I left it. I love the way the tapered end reflects the light- it's so pretty. It looked even prettier with that red stuff running down it- now, when was that? I can't remember.

_It was blood! Your father's blood!_

There goes that psychotic voice again. Maybe I'm going crazy. Hearing voices and all that. No, never mind, I'm not crazy- I'm as sane as everyone else! Or maybe everyone's crazy anyway. Which would make me sane. Or being sane would be crazy... if everyone was insane.

Thinking about this is giving me a headache. I decide that worrying about this kinda thing is pointless. So I reach up and start to hack at my hair with the knife. Chestnut-brown curls fall to the floor as I shake my head, laughing at how light it feels.

"You can clean this up, right, Daddy?" I toss this knife back into the drawer and saunter out the door. "I'm off to the Reaping- and I won't be back!"

* * *

**Leon Sirtis, District Three**

"Mom says wake up, Leon!"

"Mmph..." I mumble into my pillow. "Five more minutes..."

The sheets are ripped off of me and I shriek, sitting up and waving my arms around. Breeja giggles. "You aren't wearing anything."

"And you look like a monkey," Chantae adds.

"A _skinny_ monkey," Kinderlyn points out, snickering.

Welcome to my life. I'm the youngest boy in a family of girls. I've got four older sisters, god help me. Sure, sometimes it isn't that bad, but most of the time they're merciless teasers. Like right now.

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up," I groan, grabbing a pair of pants. "Leave me alone, will you?"

Once I get downstairs, about ten minutes later, I've managed to shake off most of my sleepiness. My mom carries a plate loaded with bacon and eggs and toast and sets it down in front of me. "Eat, Leon- you're so skinny!"

I sigh. "Mom, there's no way I can eat all this..."

She worries about me so much. Probably because at thirteen I'm this skinny, pale little runt. It doesn't exactly bother _me_, but she cares about that kind of thing. So I eat some just to satisfy her, but I'm forced to push the plate away about halfway through the second egg.

"I hafta go, Mom. Reaping Day, remember?"

Her green eyes immediately darken with worry and fear. "I know."

"Don't worry, we'll be back soon," Breeja says, descending the stairs in a floaty yellow dress that I've never seen before. She, Kara, and I are the last three in my family that are eligible for Reaping, and next year Kara's going to be too old. Breeja's still fifteen, though, so she'll be accompanying me to Reaping for three more years.

"Love you!" I kiss Mom's cheek and rush out the door. We're already late, but we are every year.

On my way to the town center I pass by most of the houses on my street, since we live almost on the outskirts of the town. And I know pretty much everyone on my road. So it's a surprise to see someone I don't quite recognize step out of the Kitain house and lock the door behind her. It's a few seconds before I recognize Sephiria, because she's just so... different.

Her hair, usually long and up in a ponytail, has been hacked off until it's just past her ears, the ends all jagged like some madman with scissors was let loose on it. And the dress she's wearing- her super-conservative father never lets her out of the house without a floor-length skirt and long sleeves (and I've never seen her in pants). This dress is barely even decent, with a swooping neckline and a skirt that's only just past her waist. There are several dark bruises visible up and down her legs and arms, like somebody beat her up. There are some rumors in town that old man Kitain, a notorious drunkard, is a little to _close_ to his daughter, but I never believed them. Until now, that is.

Now, I'm a naturally inquisitive guy (my sisters would say I'm a nosy pest, don't listen to them). In fact, my lifelong dream is to become a reporter. To uncover the truth about things and make it publicly available to the world. So seeing _Sephiria Kitain_ of all people in this state makes about a million questions pop into my mind.

But there's something about her eyes that makes me stop and stay silent. There's an odd light in them that I've never seen in anyone. And that's when it really hits me- Sephiria is genuinely insane. I don't know how I know it, but there's no doubt in my mind that I'm right.

We arrive two full minutes late, meaning we're the last ones in. The Peacekeeper at the check in desk glares at us. "You're late."

"Sorry..." I hurry over to the thirteen year old section and settle in. I haven't taken out any tesserae, ever, so my name isn't in there too many times. I should be safe.

The Escort, Oliana Mirren, flounces onto the stage in that ridiculously puffy pink dress that she wears every year. She's a short, chubby woman with hot pink hair, light pink nails- everything's _pink_. It's actually quite sickening.

"Ladies first!" she chirps. She reaches into the glass bowl, but before she can even read the name on the slip, a girl steps out of the crowd.

"I volunteer as Tribute."

I gasp. What the _hell_?

Oliana raises one well-plucked eyebrow. "And you are...?"

"Sephiria Kitain."

Why did she volunteer? Is she _crazy_? Well, I think she is. Maybe I've just been proven right.

I really want to ask her what she thinks she's doing, just to satisfy my innate reporter curiosity. It isn't until Oliana calls the next name that I realize that I might actually have a chance to do so.

"Leon Sirtis!"

Um... that's _me._

"Leon? Can you please come up to the stage?"

I realize that I'm still frozen where I stand. I force myself to walk up, heart pounding. Her pudgy little hand pats me on the shoulder as I mount the stage and face Sephiria, who's at least five inches taller than me. She's got this creepy little smile on her face as she shakes my hand.

I tell myself to look on the bright side. At least this way I can ask her all those questions I've got for her.


	6. District 4 reapings Awsomazing11

**Warning! The chapter is extremely long. On a side note, the forms are no longer needed. I'm not getting enough opinions to decide who gets more story time. Once the story starts getting more reviews I'll bring it back.**

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

oOxOo

Charlotte "Lottie" Redway (14)

oOxOo

When I was five I wanted to be a ballerina.

It was useless; I was far too clumsy and impatient to even last a lesson.

When I was eight I wanted to be a lawyer. Mum had said with a mouth like mine, I could win any argument- and the lawyer thing stuck for a while.

When I was ten I decided I wanted to be a tribute for the Hunger Games.

Now that I'm fourteen, that dream (or nightmare perhaps) is going to come true.

I'm kind of scared- terrified- to volunteer.

Because oh lord there's kids out there that are eighteen and have been training for years- I'm only fourteen.

Fourteen and possibly walking into a death sentence.

oOxOo

I'm training in my best friend Celia's basement again.

Tomorrows the reapings, but I don't think I'll be ready. I've got skill, no denying that. I'm quick, and clever, but in no way strong or talented with any grand weapons. I'm a district four rich kid; I've been fed all of my life. The only kind of violence I know is either the one on television or gutting a fish.

I haven't told my Mum that I'm doing this yet.

I think she'll hate me for it, for causing our family the pain of possibly losing another member.

(My dad was already reaped by death in the form of cancer).

Sometimes I wonder why I'm even doing this.

Then I walk outside and remember.

The peacekeepers everywhere, monitoring your every move, just anticipating your slip up. They bring you down like the weight of the sky. My hope for anything improving has long gone, and I can't stand it: sitting here, and watching people dying, whether from the capitol or their own toils.

I'm done running.

oOxOo

Reaping day comes like storm clouds on a beautiful summer's day, just a million times worse. A storm will pass, but the horrors of Reaping day will continue right into the Hunger Games.

It's time for me to make a choice.

Yet, my choice is already made.

I'm going to volunteer as a tribute.

My oldest sister is ranting about the reaping interrupting her new business schedule. Eleanor opened a new clothing shop in town, and it is already booming with popularity.

The twins, both a year old than I, are teasing Nellie, my youngest sister about her school girl crush on the famous victors' son, Finnick Odair II.

My mother is the only one that notices my silence. Usually, I'm voicing my opinion on some random matter, or at least adding in a sarcastic comment.

Today I stare down at my cereal, barely eating a mouthful.

She looks at me with sad eyes, the identical shade of bright aqua as my own.

The emotional side of me begins having doubts, how easy would it be to just drop the matter, and live a sour life, knowing I did absolutely nothing to show the capitol they can't control me. Because really, who wants to die a slow painful death on live television?

I push away my cereal, and stand up abruptly from the long dining room table.

"What crawled up your butt and died?" Alex asks, his twin brother Riley also raising an eyebrow at my strange behaviour.

"Pardon me, but you've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn." I respond snidely.

I turn sharply, and hurry out of the room so they can't see my tears.

"A damn about what?" I hear Alex say.

I can't bring myself to explain my lack of sense or comebacks.

oOxOo

"Oh Lottie, you look beautiful."

I turn from my bedroom mirror to see my mother, looking teary eyed but proud. In her hand, she holds a silky aqua colored ribbon.

"Don't I everyday Mum?" I smile cheekily, trying in vain to lighten the tense mood.

She rolls her eyes at me.

My dress is simple; white with lace adorning it. No sleeves (thank goodness or the heat would kill me), but a high neckline, and tight until just above my waist. It stops a bit above my knees, but not too high to make me look like one of the district sluts.

Mum comes across the room and takes a piece of my dark honey hair in her hand. It's painfully straight, and all different layers from all of the times I had tried to cut it myself. Tiny braids and beads litter through it, as I tend to braid when I'm nervous- weird habit right? At least my hair is finally long.

"Beads?" Mum asks, a note of surprise in her tone.

I laugh.

I hardly like wearing jewelry, so I just braid the colored beads into my hair instead! Smart idea right? Wrong. They get stuck and tangled and now it looks like I have little spots of colors all over my head.

She ties my hair back with the pretty aqua ribbon, pieces of hair still falling around my face.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" I respond, turning to face my Mum's sad face, shell shocked.

"Don't play dumb Lottie, I know you better than that."

I sigh. I could lie, just tell her that I was volunteering to bring pride to our family and our district, but Mum's not stupid, not at all. She'd see through it.

"We're all going to die Mum, eventually at least. I want to do something before I hit the bucket, something memorable, which gives people hope until we can bring them down again someday." At seeing my Mum's look of something between fear and doubt, I continue quickly. "It's possible, I swear! Katniss Everdeen did it once, it can happen again!"

Mum looks around the room, as if trying to see if anyone heard us. Our mansion is on the edge of town, personally, I doubt if anyone would be eavesdropping.

"Listen Lottie, I lived through that war, I had Eleanor then. It wasn't a pretty time. You have to be careful of what you say. Freedom would be wonderful, but it's hard thing to achieve. You're clever enough to know the capitol will kill you if you even make the slightest mistake in what you say."

I nod. I have to admit, I do have a pretty big mouth sometimes… or all the time.

"Now, if you're volunteering and putting your life on the line just to send hope to Panem, and probably trying to prove a point," She winked and I blushed, "you better get your strategy stuck in your head, because after all, it's just a game, and put on some nicer shoes than those old converse while you're at it."

I gave my Mom a large smile and a huge hug.

Time to go out and beat the capitol at their own game, while trying not to get killed in the meantime.

This is going to be a piece of cake.

(Not).

oOxOo

Finnick "Finn" Odair (16)

oOxOo

My mother says I look identical to him. The same bronze hair, golden skin, face and sea green eyes that make people go wild. Even the winks I throw towards fan girls are apparently the same as his. I have a passion for the ocean, fishing, basically anything that involves water, and my charm is superior to any ones. Just like him.

What people don't get is I'm not him.

I may have the same name, looks, and pastimes, but I'm a different Finnick.

I sometimes wonder if my own mother understands that.

Annie Cresta Odair's mental condition has not improved since the Mockingjay's Rebellion, in a way she's gotten worst. Especially in the past two years.

Sometimes she just loses all sense of the world and begins rocking back and forth. At least that's an improvement from the constant screaming, the fits, calling for _him_.

She calls me Finnick sometimes.

I know it's my given name, but it's like an unspoken rule that I'm called Finn. When she's in her right mind, she says calling me Finnick will bring back horrible memories of his demise. So I know when she begins, she imagines I'm him: Finnick Odair, victor of the 65th Hunger Games, survivor of the 75th, solider of a rebellion and then a war.

I'm not.

I can't even begin to live up to his legacy, because I'm not sure how he could survive something like that, and still live like the wonderful man my mom- and mainly everyone else- tells me he was.

I'm just Finn, everyone's second chance at Finnick Odair, but can never quite meet the mark.

oOxOo

How is it that even surrounded by people I still feel lonely? I have plenty of people that love me, but sometimes I wonder: do they love me for me? My mom does, but I think she's the only one.

Do they love me for being rich in a district that seems to be getting poorer and poorer?

Do they love me because I'm good looking? (I am District four's most eligible).

Do they love me for being _his_ son?

Maybe Dad felt this way. Girls swarm me; boys want to be my friend. It just feels so damn superficial. They laugh at everything I say, and I know personally my jokes aren't funny. They ask to get me stuff like a glass of water. I have legs.

Of course, I am amazing so it's expected people would want to do anything for me. Yet I also kind of bring it on myself. People had too high of expectations for me, so as always, I pushed to meet them.

_Heartbreaker_.

Apparently that's what was expected of me.

I'm a great actor.

Really, I'm too weak to severely break anyone's heart.

I watch as a throng of pretty girls in nice dresses flock around the dock I'm currently sitting on. Why do girls do that anyway? Move in flocks. They even go to the bathrooms together. What are they doing? Talking while they're in the stalls?!

I sigh, kicking my feet against the side of the dock, absentmindedly tying knots with an old piece of rope.

"Hey Finn, you're looking particularly delightful today." A buttermilk-sweet voice sings out from behind me.

Rachael is my current fling. Needless to say, she does most of the talking.

I've figured out, over my sixteen years that having a girlfriend is a good thing. If not, girls and even boys will come at you from all sides with propositions. Not something I really look forward to. People looks so let down, and sad when you say no. Then you feel guilty and end up either going somewhere with them or having a horrible conscience for the next week. It sucks.

"Oh but Rachael, haven't you looked in the mirror yet today? You look absolutely stunning." I respond smoothly, giving her my signature wink.

Rachael McGrath is something of a looker, with her sunshine blonde hair, and happy aura. She's fun to be around, don't get me wrong (and quite the kisser too) but her optimism gets on my nerves.

"Reaping time Finn!" She exclaims. "Aren't you excited?! First reaping in like a decade!"

"Actually Rachael, it was-" I began to correct, but soon am cut off.

"I'm sure you won't get picked, don't worry! There are so many people in our district, it's…"

That's where I stop listening. I'm surprised I lasted that long.

Rachael and I walk by the girls by the dock, as they surround us too, trying to get a word in past Rachael. Maybe I should start being gay instead. Boys hopefully won't be so happy and talkative. It's not like I care about any of these girls anyway.

I'm just this guy, who's got all these people "in love" with him, but doesn't care about any one of them, because they're never the right one.

oOxOo

"Unless you're all crowded around to see freaking Katniss Everdeen, move." An unwavering voice demanded from somewhere behind my crowd of fans.

A relatively pretty girl roughly pushed through the significant amount of people I had gained around me. She had the typical golden tan of nearly all district four citizens, but rather unusual pointed features. Her hair looked to be all of different lengths, with little spots of bright colors throughout, falling out of a ribbon. Her fists were balled, and wiry muscles shook in her arms.

"In a hurry darling?" I ask her, in my upmost charming of voices.

"Oh yes." Her voice is laced with heavy sarcasm. "Because won't we all just love to see who's going into a bloodbath on live television."

She stared at me through overly bright aqua eyes, almost challenging me to say something.

Challenging me?!

People all around me, looked up at me hungrily awaiting my reply.

"Do you know who I am?" I ask her, just as the crowd wants. They back me up with shouts of agreement.

"You're the annoying toad that's holding up the main way to the reapings. You're also the moron who is making my best friend Celia back there tell me to find a fucking detour."

As if on cue, a quiet female voice says, "Lottie, come on."

This so called Lottie waves her hand at her friend, as she attempts stepping around me.

I get in her way, winking at her. "Actually, I'm the boy of your dream, Finn Odair." I pause peering around for a second at the abundance of people circling to watch our exchange. I'd better make this good.

"The second." I add quickly as an afterthought.

"Oh, so we're introducing ourselves? In that case, I'm Lottie Redway," She said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"The one and only." She added in the same quick manner as I did, though clearly sarcastic.

I raised an eyebrow at this girl, wasn't she even the least bit affected that she was speaking to me? **The** Finn Odair.

"Do you know who my father was?!"

Mutters of agreement from around follow my statement.

Lottie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over a lace dress. "Humour me."

"Hello? Finnick Odair! Victor of the 65th Hunger Games-"

I begin an animated explanation, with many comments thrown in from the crowd around us. By the time I finish, Lottie somehow managed to sneak away. Only then do I realize that was probably her plan all along. After all, we've been having a day for the victors for at least the last sixteen years. There's no way district four's own, Finnick Odair could have escaped her notice.

I just got owned by some random girl who didn't even fall to my charms.

I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to be irritated or impressed.

oOxOo

"Hello district four, let's make this quick." Our escort drawled.

I pushed into the sixteen year old section in the town square, just escaping the peace keepers notice.

"I'm Balthalzar Dailey, you're escort. Now, let's see which one of you little brats will be honored enough to be picked for the first of the new generation of Hunger Games."

This so called Balthalzar was a short, chubby man, with a red nose and watery blue eyes. His curly hair was so black, it was nearly blue, and his skin had some kind of light purple tint to it. His legs were squashed into tight leopard print pants, and on his feet were a pair of running shoes; yet judging by his pot belly, he hadn't run a day in his life.

Even for a capitol citizen, he was weird looking.

He grabbed the first name he could reach out the girls reaping ball.

"Sofia Sherman." He called, with no emotion whatsoever.

A tall buff looking girl with a square jaw and wild look in her eyes raced up to the stage. She looked to be about eighteen or older.

"Oh no!" A voice rang out from around the fourteen or fifteen year old girl section.

Whoever it was made quite the show strutting up through the crowd.

When her face came into view, I recognized her immediately; it was that girl who insulted me earlier, Lottie Redway.

"My poor little Sophie!" Lottie called, jumping up past the peacekeepers and up to the stage.

"It's Sofia." The older girl growled.

Lottie was at least a few heads shorter than Sofia, looking like a lanky china doll beside her.

She just waved Sofia off. "Whatever. I volunteer for Sophie!" She exclaimed into the microphone.

"You little punk! This is my place!" Sofia lunged at Lottie, who easily sprung out of the way. Peacekeepers had to forcefully escort Sofia off of the stage, before she murdered the new district four tribute.

Balthalzar gave an audible sigh. "You're name?"

"I'm Charlotte Redway, fourteen years old, but you can call me Lottie." She flashed a cheeky smile that the capital would be sure to eat up.

I wondered why Lottie would volunteer for someone who had a much better chance than her. Why wouldn't she just wait until she was older and more experienced?

Lottie waved again at the crowd as small noises of crying and disbelief came from a few sections before me. Through the crowd, I could just see a small girl in the twelve year old girls section crying to two identical boys. They all looked an awful lot like Lottie.

For a second, on stage, Lottie's confident charade was gone, replaced with an unsure, sad expression of a little girl. This change was gone as quick as it came, and Lottie's teasing smiles were back up. "Overly Confident" was a good angle for her.

"Now for the boy."

That's when my heart began to speed up. It could be me coming next. No, it probably will be me. My parents are victors. They helped the mockingjay in the rebellion. This was well known. Oh my god, the reaping was probably rigged just for me. I wonder if my name is on every slip in that reaping ball.

"Finnick Odair." Balthalzar said after choosing a slip.

My breath stopped. Maybe I was a psychic.

I approach the stage in a slight daze, the crying and yelling coming from all sides only a buzz in the back of my mind. I was going into the Hunger Games. Sure, I was pretty skilled with a trident and knives, but only from fishing. I was pro at making knots, but how could that help? I can't exactly kill people by tying a knot in their face.

I shake my head slightly, and run a hand through my bronze hair as I step onto the stage.

Strategy. I need a strategy.

That's when it came to me.

I'd watched my father's Hunger Games plenty of times. He used his good looks and charm to get sponsors. Easy enough. I've been acting like him all of my life, why not be like him in the games too?

'It's not as easy as that' the rational part of my brain seemed to say. I'll have to kill kids just like me, who were forced to do this… or those weird few who chose to like Lottie. I might have to kill this overly sarcastic girl on stage, who I know now, isn't quite as confident about her choice as she wants people to think. For some reason, that idea makes my chest tighten, and the air seem harder to breathe.

I put on a fake grin for the crowd, and send out a charming wink to the audience, and cameras.

"No worries district four; I won't leave any of my lovely ladies pining for me."

…Or my mom.

She's not in the crowd of bystanders; the doctors diagnosed that her mental state couldn't handle it. How could I disagree with that? But how would she deal with this? First her husband, and now her son gone too?

"Shake hands."

I turned to Lottie, whose aqua ribbon was now nearly falling out of her choppy hair. She looked different than when I had seen her before the reapings. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but her eyes didn't look quite so alive and playful, and her sharp features were tightened in determination.

I gripped onto her small hand, wrapping seamlessly inside of mine.

A jolt of heat shot up my back, and I flinched away from her.

"Good luck Finnick Odair the second." She teased with a small smirk.

"You too Lottie Redway, the one and only." I answered under my breath as I turned from her to face the crowd.

On my hand I could still feel lingering tingling sensation from where Lottie had shook it, and my heart responded to this by beating faster and faster.

This could not be a good sign.

oOxOo


	7. D5 Goodbyes ShadowDragon654

_**Starling Widows P.O.V.**_

I sit in the Justice building, inside one of the rooms. A single tear falls from my cheek, the barrier holding it worn to the point where it has just broken down and let it through. It lets them all through. The room becomes blurry; everything blotches of color by now. I can no longer quite make-out the red velvet love-seat I am sitting on, nor the small table in the center made of a dark auburn wood, the gold handles being almost invisible. Intricate designs on the carpet smash together, like opaque clouds of dark colors.

The door swings open, and in comes my little sister, her liquid-chocolate curls bouncing and shoulders jumping from her sobs. "Starwing!" She runs to me, and buries her four-year-old face on my chest, her sobs growing louder. Fallen tears already stain my white dress as if I have been in the rain for a few moments, just long enough to have some drops fall on my dress, but nowhere near long enough to be drenched to the bone.

I wrap my arms around her, rocking back and forth. "Shhhhh, Robin, shhhhh. Everything is going to be okay," I try to smooth my voice out, as not to upset her even more. Her tear-stained, flushed face looks up at me, her big, brown doe eyes staring up at me.

"Are you going to come back, Starwing?" I now regret using baby-talk to her for three of her four years of life. I sigh. She's probably always going to have that babyish hint in her voice.

"Robin, I… I don't know." She now wails, the skirt of her soft pink dress dancing around her chubby legs. "Robin-Robin, look at me-Robin," I hold her face in my hands and make her look directly at me before I go on. "I can't say for sure if I am going to be coming back. I'm not going to lie; the chances of me coming back are one in twenty-six. I don't have a very good chance. You've seen what happens to people in the arena. You know very well that the next time you see me in person; I could be in a wooden box. But, I _can_ promise you one thing. I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I come home."

She looks up at me, and her eyebrows come together, her lip trembling, and her eyes narrow. What comes out of this little girl's mouth almost knocks me out of my seat. "But that's not enough!" She looks down at her feet, and the peacekeepers come in to drag her out, saying her time is up. What does she mean, _'That's not enough'_?

The door opens again a few moments later, revealing a small boy in a white dress shirt and overalls, his dirty-blonde hair a winded mess. "Hi Starling," he mumbles, twirling something in his hand. He comes over and sits next to me.

"You know, Sterling, it's okay to cry… Not like holding the tears back is going to make it any_better_." I can see the tears forming in my twin brother's eyes, the same deep blue as mine. He shakes his head.

"No, I saw Robin when she came out. I figure she must've near given you a heart-attack." He shrugs. "Ma said she won't be coming to see you. Didn't want to make you even more emotional she said." I nod and look down. I knew she wasn't going to come see me. And I also know that is a lie, what he told me her reason being. I told her not to come. I don't want to make it harder on her. Any last words I might have to say might throw her into a depressive fit if I don't make it out, which I know very well I most-likely will not.

"Alright." I look over at my brother, and he holds his closed fist out to me. I in turn put out my open hand, palm up.

In my hand he drops a piece of plaid blue worn flannel. The same one I always carry in my pocket, but couldn't bring because my dress didn't have pockets. "Thank you," I murmur, and remember the history behind this faded piece of fabric.

It was my brother and I's fifth birthday. I'm surprised I still remember it honestly. My mother had given us each a few dollars for our birthday, some extra money from her pay check. While I had done what a normal little girl would've done and bought some candy, my brother had used it for something else. I remember how I used to always wear his flannel jacket, how much I had wanted one of my own. He came home the day after our birthday, with a bag in his hand. He hadn't been able to afford wrapping for it with the little money he had, but he had gotten me an over-sized blue plaid flannel, just like his forest green one. I wore it every day until I could no longer fit it, and I cut an edge off to carry with me as a reminder of my brother's first present to me.

I smile and run my small thumb over the fabric, and hug my brother. "Thank you so much Sterling…"Tears threaten to fall again, and my brother lightly pushes me off of him.

"Quit it! You're gonna make me cry, and you know how Mom'll react to that!" he laughs a bit, and pats my head as if I am a puppy before he goes to leave. "Oh, and Starling?" he doesn't turn around. "If you don't make it out, I will follow you to the next life and kill you myself for leaving me to deal with Robin by myself." As he shuts the door I snort. He's always believed in the whole reincarnation thing. I've always believed that once you're dead, you're gone for good. It's so much simpler and easier to believe.

I hold that small piece of flannel in my clenched fist, and stare at the ground as I wait to be escorted to the train leading to Hell.

_**Valentine Dominiano's P.O.V.**_

I remember the look in that girl's eyes when I shook her hand. It wasn't fear. It wasn't defeat. It wasn't even confusion, or disbelief. It was sorrow. She looked me dead in the eye, and her forced smile had drooped.

My left eye twitches at the thought. Not like that's unusual, though. I've always had some problems. I already know almost for sure that I am going to die in the bloodbath. I doubt I will get a half-way decent alliance, and I'm not a career. I'd guarantee my death, if not in the bloodbath, within two days. I'd say I'd put my life on it, but that'd be a bit ironic.

I look around my room, and wonder if the girl's room looks the same. I believe her name is Starling. I don't really know her, but I noticed her eyes were this really pretty dark blue.

The couch I sit on is black with gold-painted lining, the wooden floor dark brown, the carpet is black and red, and the long table in the center has nothing on it. The walls are a deep red, like dried blood almost.

I wonder what my blood will stain that color. Grass? Sand? Floor? Tree Bark? A sword? An arrow? A small blade? Or, perhaps, a mace? Maybe my blood will stain crystal-clear water.

The never-ending possibilities flood my mind, and I look around the room quickly, out of habit. Not sure why, as I am not in the arena, but I do. As I sit there in that room for a while, it suddenly occurs to me that nobody is coming to see me.


	8. D7 goodbyes Me

**Hello! Welcome to another chapter of the blood flows again! This chapter will be writen by myself. That is all, you may contiue to the story. And just to clear some things up, Axel is actually a nice guy but he gets out of control when he's angry. One more thing the author of D6 is on vacation or something and I haven't been able to get a hold on the chapter. Team Shadow, if you've sent it to me and I someone didn't see it, tell me. I'll feel like an idiot but tell me. Now, on to the chapter. Sorry about the overall shortness by the way.**

* * *

Axel Treefall - age 18

I sit in the poorly light room in the rebuilt Justice Building. Not expecting anyone to show up my anger quickly rises and I grab one of the cheap vases in the room and throw it to the floor and scream at the shards. I fall backwards into the chair and groan. In my head I wonder, what did I do to deserve this? I'm the last person in my family left alive! My Brother died fighting the Capital, Dad was executed for being related to him, Mom and my other brother were poisened, My Aunt Johanna was tortured to death for fighting in the rebellion and my Grandparents were dead even before the second rebellion began! I'd just be better off dead, I don't have any friends because everyone's scared to know me. And it's all District One's fault. They turned over to the Capital in a split second and probably even planned the whole thing with them. And the deaths of all my family is their fault. I'll to kill their tributes in the arena. Those sneaky, back-stabbing... ARGH! I'm about to destroy another vase when someone walks in. I look up and I'm shocked at who it is, my Foremen at the Lumber yard - Glover Hedge. He's over 60 years old, short, bald and ugly.

"Listen Son," He says as soon as he walks in, "I'm sorry to see you go. It will be a great loss to the company-"

I hurl out of my chair at him and pin him to the floor and yell at him. "The company? The company? I'm probably going to die and all you can think about is the company? You're pathetic!" I shout at him. I'm vaguely aware of all the talking in the room where Juniper is in die down. Immediatly upon thinking of Juniper everything fades away and all I can think of is her smiling at me. I mentally shake myself and snarl in my Foreman's ear, "Listen Hedge, you're too big to be a Mouse, and too small to be a man, I guess that makes you a rat!"

He is visibly shaken and nods several times before he can respond, "T-that's a-a-a v-v-very logica-cal assump-assumption sir," he stammers, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Good," I say before I throw him through the door.

I slump down into the chair and await for the peacekeepers to come take me to a death where I can die protecting Juniper.

* * *

Juniper Griffin - 17

I break down in tears as soon as I'm in the room where I'll say goodbye to my family and friends. No that I have very many friends, everyone despises me for being the daughter of the richest man second to the Mayor. Well... _almost _everyone. My one friend Diane is the only one who cared enough to learn who I am and become friends with me. Diane bursts into the room with tears pouring out of her eyes. _Well speak of the devil and he shall come _I think grimly. I sit up straiter and wipe the tears of my face so that I may appear calm and composed.

"Oh, cut the crap Juni!" She exclaims as soon as she sees me. "I know you've been crying, you're going into the freakin' Hunger Games! And with your partner... Oh he'll probably beat you into a pulp in the Bloodbath" She cries.

I rise from my chair and say to her, "No he wouldn't do that! Axel isn't like that!"

Diane looks annoyed, "How would you know?" She retorts, "You've never even met him!"

I take a breath to calm myself, "Diane?" I say to her, "You know how I was about to tell who I had a crush on right before the Capital attacked?" She nods and motions for me to continue. "And you know how I got upset when Axel was reaped?"

She nods, "Yea I-" she replies but stops when she realizes what I am implying. "No. No, no, no! You may _not _have a crush on a self-filled jerk with no good reason for snarling at everyone who talks to him!"

She's about to say more but I lose my cool and snap at her, "He has perfectly good reason! How would you feel if all your family died within a week, your friends were whipped until they crossed the street when you walked by, and everyone who talks to you needs permission from the peacekeepers!"

She opens her mouth to yell back at me but before she can even louder yelling from Axel's room cuts her off. We both stop and stare at the wall seperating us from him. When the noise dies down she's about to say something but her time ends and the Peacekeepers take her away. The last thing I see before my family floods in is her shaking her head grimely at me.

My visit with my family is a blur, all I can recall is sobbing and the occaisional "Do anything you have to do to win Juniper!"

All I know is, that if one of District Seven's tributes comes out, it won't be me.

* * *

**Whoaaaaaaaaaa! Unintentional star-crossed lovers, lol. Well, actually, I intended for them to be star-crossed lovers. And I know what you're thinking... THERE'S NO POSSIBLE WAY THEY WERE BOTH REAPED! IT'S TO BIG OF A COINCEDINCE! Well, I speak for all authors when I say that it might not be a coincedince *cough*Capital*cough cough***


	9. D6 goodbyes Team Shadow

**District Six**

Maebry Donner

I sit in the Justice Building, waiting for my goodbyes. _Why did this happen to me?_ I think to myself. I'm only 14. I'm not gonna be able to survive the Hunger Games. Gavin might, but I'm not.

Speaking of Gavin, it's probably even worse we were reaped the same year. I've known him for a while, we've been friends since we were about 7, but nothing more than just friends. I think he likes me but I consider him a brother. And now we're both going to meet our ends in a battle to the death. Yay.

My family is the first to say goodbye. I cradle my younger sister, Emma, on my lap while my parents hug me. They start crying.

"Maebry, you can win this thing. You need to win this thing. I need you to come home." Emma says in her sweet little 6 year old voice.

"I promise, I will try my hardest to return home." I hug her and look at my parents.

"We are so proud of you, Maebry. You're so brave, you probably can and will come home. We need you here. You add the fun in the household." My mom says, smiling through her tears.

"Yeah Maebry. You're my little girl. I need my little girl." My dad says, hugging me.

"I promise I'll come home guys. Just, don't let Emma watch if things turn out bad." I say. I don't want her to watch my horrid death, if it is horrid.

"Alright, we won't let her watch, unless something happy is happening." My mom smiles. I hug them once more before they are taken away from me, for most likely forever.

**Gavin Pulido**

I sit on the couch, holding my head down.

Maebry Donner! Maebry mad her way to the stage, so emotionless. But I know her better than anyone. She was screaming

I flash back to the reapings. Maebry and I were reaped, in the same year. What are the odds of that?

The door opens and Ray, Geoff, and Micael walk in. They sit on the couch.

"Hey Gavin, sorry this happened bro." Michael says, patting me on the back.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry. I would've volunteered, but ya know…I have my sisters and brothers." Geoff says, also patting me on the back.

"It's alright, I don't blame any of you. It just kinda sucks Maebry and I were reaped _the same_ year. Now only one of us can come home, ya know?" I say, looking at my ratty black shoes.

"Yeah." Ray says, looking away. "Are you gonna sacrifice yourself for her?" He asks. I nod. That's my plan. Making sure she comes home, safely.

"Well, good luck to the both of you." Ray hugs me, and I don't hesitate to hug back. The Peacekeepers come in to take them away.

"I know you can do it, Gav." Michael says, leaving the room.

"Do what a man would do, protect your girl." Geoff smiles, leaving the room.

"Good luck bro." Ray says. The door shuts


	10. D8 goodbyes Incubiis

**So ummm... sorry for not updating... This chapter is really long and has some cursing which I censored out a little... Sorry for that too... Also, I've been having some problems outside of FanFiction and as a result I end up raging over the smallest things at some authors I really like and so um... I'm making a new account on which I shall post this story again. I'm gonna put my new username in the next chapter. And then after I have the new account up I'm leaving this up for a while before I take it down. Sorry for wasting your time. You may now proceed to the story.**

"_Demons run when a good man goes to war."_

**Soraira Eloitz, 1:13 pm.**

Soraira Eloitz was very displeased at the moment, even more so than usual.

Her new District partner- she only hoped for better- refused to stop his staring and the Peacekeeper's grip on her arm had started to tighten.

"You honestly don't think I can walk inside myself. Really? I volunteered for this!" She barked, attempting to wiggle out of their grip. The one on her left started guffawing. Her blue eyes narrowed.

"You've lost it, kid. You're even more mad then the other guys say." He shook his head in a disapproving manner.

"You watch you f*cking mouth!"

"Language, Soraira." Another chastised. Her attention was no longer divided and only on the source of the voice.

"Nice to see my favorite Peacekeeper," she spat; glaring with all the spite and annoyance she could muster (which was quite a lot).

"There'll be time to chat inside."

"A**hole," she muttered.

For a very long time, Soraira was silent.

There were so many emotions that she could have grasped from her mind to become dominate. She could have felt hurt, even offended that her family looked relieved instead of sad. She could have allowed sorrow to weigh her down, the insults of years and years finally adding up. Instead, she reacted the same way she always did. Empty and angry. No one said a word. Soraira's fingers curled around the underside of the TARDIS blue chair, digging in till her knuckles were white.

"What are you here for? And don't even try to screw me over- we all know you guys don't give two sh*ts about me." She said.

"You're family."

"You really think this is about family, Dad?" She paused long enough just to roll her eyes. "If we're going to talk about family, I'll give you something to mull over while you watch me on the television, fighting to the death. Remember that you never treated me like your family. You treated me like a monster- and the funny thing is, I don't blame you! I am one. I enjoy being one!"

"Don't say those things, Soraira! Remember how we got that Capitol psychologist for you? We do love you!" Her father pleaded.

"You got her because you fear me more than you could ever love me! I'm the shell of a daughter you only dream of, I see it in your eyes."

"It's your own damn fault," he snapped, pausing for a reaction. Soraira didn't even flinch. "She said you were fine. You just needed some people skills. Said you were a sociopath with IED and that was okay, because you couldn't help it. And you seemed normal after your sessions! Didn't talk about the Games as much, the blood spill. Besides the outbursts, you were completely fine! And now what? You volunteered. And you'll die at your own hands."

"Good riddance." Snarled another.

"Shut up, Bonnie! You don't know sh*t!" Soraira screeched at the redhead who did nothing but glare.

"Soraira!"

"What now, Mother? Going to straighten me up?" Soraira asked, standing up to face her.

"You better hope so!" She replied.

"Don't you dare talk to your mother like that!" Her father scolded.

"Enough!" One voice interjected. The room fell silent as all eyes fell onto a tall male who was the spitting image of Soraira: deep brown hair and bright blue eyes, only without malice. "Honestly, all of you! She's about to go d- fight, and we're arguing about her mental health!"

"And that isn't important, Alfons?"

"The madder they are, the more they kills they get." With those last words, a Peacekeeper came in. The family knew what was to be done, and they left in a hurry. Alfons gave her a last sympathetic glance before exiting, but there was no 'I love you' or 'you'll get out alive' crap. Soraira didn't even care. She was perfectly fine with being a monster and perfectly fine if she never saw them again.

And for a very long time, Soraira shared her silence with the room.

Eon Viper was the only person in District 8 who actually understood Soraira Eloitz.

He was a newer Peacekeeper at only the age of 19, and the one that kept an eye on her; the one that scolded her when she got into fights, assigned her punishments and took her in when she refused to go home. Often, she treated him like everyone else, with punches, kicks and malicious insults- and he still called her his best friend. Every time he told her, she told him that he must have horrible social relationships. He never agreed.

There were three words he described her with when explaining her to others.

The first word was easy: Monster. She so often placed fists on delicate faces and bones and broke people in half when they turned away. Frightening in that way, but thrilling to him. She did not have the typical trappings of the 'worst' kind of monster. She did not smile or laugh with others in such a charming way, but only did so when she pleased. Soraira felt very little and expressed the only emotion he believed she could. Anger. It wasn't her fault she had it. It wasn't her fault she felt so mad and empty at all the same time. She said she didn't care for anyone, but Eon liked to believe that she cared for him.

At other times he found her to be infuriatingly arrogant.

She had this cocky-a** smirk that drove the guys crazy, especially Eon. It was in a good and bad way- he could never tell the difference with her. Soraira also came over to crash at his place unexpectedly, with an overnight bag, always expecting him to say yes. The first few times truly annoyed him, but Eon sort of adjusted. She would sleep on his bed after long nights of talking and watching bad Capitol television, while he would crawl up on the floor, no matter how much begging he did to get on the bed. She was so sure of everything and planned ahead, and he told her she might be wrong about it.

She never was.

The final word was the first thing that popped into his head when he saw her:

Beautiful.

Soraira Eloitz, unbeknownst to this fact, was the whole world to Eon Viper. She had a gleam in her eyes, blood on her hands and a tricky face- one you wouldn't trust. It wasn't actual beauty that caught his eye at first; rather it was the sneer on her face and the mischief in her eyes. He made up his mind about her. Eon's first words to her were a lame attempt to flirt, and she knew it.

"What could a pretty girl like you do to get in trouble?" Soraira had only laughed at the time and put on a perfect doll face. In reply, though, she didn't say anything. She kneed him in the crotch. When he yelped out in pain, she howled in laughter. They hadn't gotten off on the right foot, but he kept his vision of her.

When she opened up to him after a bit, he took every word down like a spoonful of sugar.

She explained about her mental health and her family. She explained her emotions and how she never felt them-with the exception of anger and sadistic pleasure. Eon told her she was a horrible person and she shrugged it off.

He did too, because he learned to love her.

She waited 10 minutes before Eon came into the room.

He gave her an apologetic smile and opened up his arms.

"Took you long enough. I thought you weren't coming for me." Soraira drummed her fingers against the plush chair and refused the hug.

"Me give up on you? Never." He dropped his arms to his sides. She raised a questioning eyebrow towards him.

"You kept me waiting."

"Not my fault! One of the Peacekeepers got in the way and he thought I was going to help you escape or whatever." Eon said defensively. They locked eyes and didn't break until she decided the truth.

"Fair enough," she sighed. "You're my honorary best friend and you get second chances!"

"You've given me plenty of second chances!"

"Don't test me, Viper! And don't think this is any sort of guilt for me snapping at you."

"I know, I know." They paused before calling out in unison:

"Because I don't feel sh*t." He grinned at her and she even gave a small grin back. Before another word was said, they kept silent. Soraira knew that look in his eyes.

"Why did you volunteer?" She bit down on her lip, about to explode with answers. She reviewed them in her head. She took in a deep breath.

"Because I wanted to. I felt like it. It sounded exciting. I want to feel that rush I only get when I hurt people." Eon shook his head and laughed humorlessly. She quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"You sound crazy when you say stuff like that."

"And?"

"And I love that about you. I love everything about you."

"I don't-"

"Understand? Yeah. I get it. You don't compute love, but that's okay. You'll win the Games and you'll feel things, maybe. Then you'll understand. Because I love you, you crazy, angry, emotionless son of a b*tch." Before she could even respond, he laid one on her. Her eyes widened in shock, and, for reasons unknown to her, she couldn't pull away. She complied for a mere second or two, sharing (in her mind) a soft moment with her best friend. Surprise and a twinge of pleasure burbled in her stomach- the rare feeling she only grasped when others were in pain- their fingers intertwined, and a battle for dominance was played out in their mouths.

"Okay, slow down tiger!" Eon said after pulling apart. She slapped him right across the face.

"Oi! What was that for?" He asked, rubbing the bright red palm print on his cheek. Soraira glared.

"You kissed me!"

"It seemed pretty consensual to me!" He shouted in glee. "You liked it, didn't!"

"No, I didn't," he gave her a stupid grin. "Just get the f*ck out!" She flipped the bird at him.

"Whatever you say, babe!" He gave a salute and walked to the door. "Kick some a** out there. I'll be watching. And, if you die, I'll kill you myself. Good luck, Soraira."

"Screw you," she mumbled.

When he left her in the room, Soraira still didn't feel anything.

While she was growing up, Soraira had a golden spoon stuck in her mouth.

Her father worked as a scientist for the Capitol and was given a hearty amount of pay each year. She got whatever she wanted, but she was messed up from the beginning. She enjoyed fighting with other kids and harassing them with words no child should know to use.

When her distant and violent attitude started to peak as a pre-teen, she had gotten into horrible, horrible trouble. She met Eon, plus, but had gotten a Capitol psychologist, minus.

And that woman was the next in the room.

She looked like a typical Capitolite, but not a try-hard like District 8's Escort Magdalene. Her face was altered to match a cat's, crazy green eyes and a set of unique tattoos on her orange dyed skin. It was frightening, and Soraira never liked talking about her 'feelings' with a clown.

"Hello, Soraira. How are you?"

"Katwoman, pleasure to see you again," she said in her pseudo-sweet voice, batting eyelashes.

"Oh, Soraira," Katwoman shook her head softly. "You should have been fine, you were doing great!" Her speech was thick with the Capitol accent, and Soraira had to process each word before replying.

"I lie, cheat, steal and fight. You honestly thought I was okay after 13 therapy sessions?" Soraira rolled her eyes.

"You obviously know your way around a lie. And, this is unrelated, but that Eon boy, your friend. He just left looking quite smug with himself."

Her eyes flared at the statement. "It was nothing," she snarled. Katwoman raised her hands in an innocent gesture, but her eyes were darting about. Glares were shot in her direction. "I thought you weren't here, in District 8."

"I've always attended your Reapings. Kept an eye on you, ever since the Happening."

"That's pointless. You can't talk me out of volunteering when I've already done it."

"And onto that subject: why did you volunteer?" Soraira took in a deep breath.

"I wanted to. I've always wanted to. But I'm ready now."

"So you've been training?"

"Perhaps," Soraira paused, "all I know is that I'm ready."

"Time's up!" A Peacekeeper entered the room and offered a smile to the Capitolite. "No more visitors, and you wait for the train," he gestured to Soraira. Both females exited the room without another word.

Soraira put on a smirk for the cameras and kept a chant in her head: one step closer.

**Pan Vicomte, 1:11 pm.**

If looks could kill, Pan would have been resurrected just to die a second time.

"What are you staring at?" He noted that her tone wasn't the loudest, but it's edges were razor sharp and covered in acid. He took in a sharp breath. _Out of all of District 8,_ he thought, _I get the crazy bitch that fights like a Career. Yep, she's going to kill me first._

"Nothing." He replied coolly, smiling softly at her. She narrowed her eyes.

"You f*cking liar!" Her yells echoed through the halls of the Justice Building. Secretaries looked up at Soraira and cringed. "People say you're a lovely guy, but you're just a lying a**hole!"

He held up his hands in defense. "Hey," his smile was wide, but that didn't mean anything. "I was just looking."

"Why?"

"I-"

"Never mind, _screw you_!"

His first thought: she was going to kill him.

To say that she was going to kill him would most likely be an understatement. It had barely been 2 weeks since he last talked to her, and somehow Soraira was still set on killing- no, destroying him. People said she was okay, but he didn't believe one word of it. Maybe part of it came from that Capitol psychologist. Soraira's eyes were still a mad electric blue and smiles never reached them. You could tell they weren't right. Her face might have been flawless without any scars, but Pan somehow knew that monsters were careful to cover their tracks. Then again, she was another type of monster.

His second thought: he was going to kill her instead.

He was painfully aware that it had been some number of years since a District 8 won. And now they had a fighting chance. With her. Soraira. The volunteer from 7- the girl whose eyes bored into souls. She wouldn't hesitate to rip you apart with her bare forest of hands and teeth. Soraira was deadly, precise. It was terrifying. But Pan took in another breath. He just had to find weakness.

He couldn't just grab her Peacekeeper friend and hold a knife to his throat in the Games- that wouldn't work, no, no.

He thought of it again. And again.

And it came to him. His strategy.

His third and final thought before his family entered the room: he was going to win.

One after another, the Vicomte family was ushered into the room.

"Oh, Pan.. " His father muttered and shook his head. "I'm so sorry- there were so many kids, it shouldn't have been you-"

"It's okay, I'm going to come back." Pan replied calmly, giving a reassuring smile. "I know what I'm going to do."

"Not with that monster of a Tribute!" His mother shouted. "She's a brute, that girl. Right, Lace? You've seen her!" His father merely nodded at his wife. As the Mayor of District 8, he thought he saw Soraira a bit too much.

"Instead of talking about the competition, why don't we focus on the strategy?" His brother, Rhett, asked, obviously annoyed. The room settled down and agreed. "Just keep calm and listen."

The advice "keep calm" was not working well for Pan. In fact, the opposite happened. He didn't want to completely lose his cool, but who did his brother think he was? Rhett tried to supply him with survival facts; Pan wasn't there to die like every Tribute who kept their eyes closed for too long. Yet, he couldn't give his brother the satisfaction of earning nearly enough for the effort of trying to come up with strategies.

"Rhett, I'm fine. I have an idea already- please just stop." Pan finally shouted. His father gave him a stern look.

"Pan!" He scolded.

"Dad, don't give me this bullsh*t now! I'm going into the Hunger Games, the motherf*king Hunger Games!" The room fell into silence. Pan pressed his fingers against his temples and sighed. "I'm sorry,"

"I understand. You're just.. Stressed," his mother cooed. Pan rolled his eyes, but bit down on his tongue to avoid saying anything he'd regret.

"We love you, Pan."

"I know." They gave an exchange of hugs and bittersweet "I-love-you's"

And one after another, the Vicomte family was ushered out of the room.

"Marcel couldn't come."

Pan smiled weakly at the girl sitting across from him, her blonde hair arranged into a bun and willowy body draped delicately with a baby blue dress. She returned the smile, but it was more sympathetic, if anything. "It's fine," he said. "You don't have to lie for him, Izzy. I know he doesn't want to see me."

"It's just.. You think he'd get over it by now," she sighed. "It's been a few weeks already." Izzy crossed and uncrossed her legs, shaking her head vigorously.

"I just wish he would see me. He's my best friend," Pan insisted. She tapped her foot to a beat of four.

"And he's my brother. You don't think it bothers me too? He won't even bid farewell to my boyfriend!"

"The nerve!" He mocked. She shot him a stern look. "Look, I'm sorry. I am about to fight to the death with District 8's resident Crazy. She's a threat, and I'm not."

"You're more than her. You feel, you live. Not like that thing." They sat in silence. He wanted to know she was right, but honestly believed that the monster led a life more interesting than his own- and that was what The Capitol would pine after. They liked their monsters bloody, brutal. It was unnerving that she would be probably end up being a favorite. But he felt like he dwelled on her for too long. Everyone dwelled on her for too long.

"Let's just not talk about her right now. I don't like being compared to a monster." He spat.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It was a nice observation." Pan didn't really hear the last bit, but he gave a glare.

Izzy stood up and marched over to him, wrapping her arms around him. It was a short time before she tried to release, but he refused. "God, Izzy. Just hold me for a bit longer." They held each other in an awkward embrace and kept their silence (not the good kind).

"Time to let go now, Pan," he smiled sheepishly and released her. He mumbled apologies and stood up just to kiss her. "You're an idiot!" She kissed him again.

And just in that moment, he swore they were invincible.

There was only so much Marcel could do before going mad.

His best friend was going into the Games, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He had even sent Izzy in there to see him off (she would have by herself anyways, there was no need for her to get her panties in a twist).

He watched her come out of the room and looked at her with hopeful eyes. "You should really go in there and talk with him. I don't know why you've just cut him out of your life, and I hope to f*cking god it isn't that I'm dating him, Marcel. Get over the protective big brother sh*t, I'm 17 now! You're a year older than me, and that's it!" She stormed out of the Justice Building without even looking back to face him. His eyes wandered about the other Tribute's room. A very grumpy looking Peacekeeper sulked outside of her room and tapped his foot.

"Look, you've been waiting out here for a while and we don't like loitering. Are you going to visit Pam or whatever?" Another Peacekeeper asked him.

"I'll be in there in a minute, need some time to think." Marcel replied. The Peacekeeper nodded at him and turned promptly.

"Don't take too long out here!" He shouted back.

Marcel took in a deep breath. He collected his the massive block of thoughts and arranged them into simple words.

There was only so much courage he could gather before entering the room.

"Marcel, you're a d*ck."

The dark-haired boy didn't even blink as he tugged at Marcel's patience, folding his fingers together. He crossed his arms and glowered. Marcel didn't look up. He didn't have to, he knew the tone of voice Pan was using- he had heard it countless times before. "Yup," came the monotonous response, barely loud enough to be heard. His fingers continued to pull and prod at the thread dangling off his shirt.

"That's it?"

"What do you want, Pan?" Marcel snapped. He tugged on the white thread even harder. "I already gave you my answer weeks ago!" When he fingers dropped to the side, he finally looked up at the other teenager. He mimicked Pan's posture- eyebrow raised, crossed arms and a permanent scowl etched across his face. There was an uncomfortable silence before Pan sputtered out a reply.

"Something, _anything!_ I'm here, _going to die_ and talking about heavy shit and you're just shrugging me off!"

"Pan, _shut up_. You want some advice? Fine, I'll give you some advice," he huffed before sitting up a bit. "First: you'll have to stop assuming that everyone who smiles at you in The Capitol is your best friend. Because they're not, they're going to laugh and smile as Soraira rips out your heart and cook it for dinner; Pan soup and Career blood-lemonade. And the others? So are they! I know I'm cynical, but the people out there are nefarious! Second of all: nobody gives a sh*t that you're going to die. I'm sorry. I want to help. But when tragedy happens to someone and you think to yourself that you're lucky because it didn't happen to you. That leads to my third and final piece of advice: people put themselves above others. Don't think you're the exception, because you're going to die out there and break my sister's f*cking heart. This is exactly why I didn't want this sh*t to happen to you, and that's that. In the end, you're going to come home in a tiny pine box, a mighty small prop in a mighty dark plot."

"F*ck off, Marcel."

When he said it that time, he meant it.

**Soraira Eloitz and Pan Vicomte, 1:44 pm.**

Both Tributes were united at 1:43 pm sharp, Soraira being the last to leave her room.

"How many people came to see you off? It took you a nearly a good 20 minutes!" Pan whispered fiercely. "Were they raving about you being a lunatic?"

"Shut up, idiot. Capitol cameras are everywhere. And by the looks on your face, I'm certain your goodbyes didn't go exactly as planned, hm? No sugar-sweet farewells? Just bitter, cold arguments with the exception of about one goodbye?" She retorted, still keeping on a dazzling smirk.

"I could say the same for you. I bet your family didn't even come."

"And again, you're wrong." Both exchanged looks with each other as their Escort came rushing past camera people.

"Come along, sweets! It's time to board the train! Wouldn't want The Capitol to miss out on your lovely faces, would we now?" They groaned in unison. "Shoo! Shoo!" She yelped in her funny accent. Pan snickered.

"Whatever you say, Margarine."

"It's Magdalene, dear," she corrected, not even noting the sarcasm in his voice. "Now, it's off we go! Our very first steps to prepare for the Games!"

Both thought they knew the outcome of the dangerous affair: life or death. Neither was about to even consider being on the bad end of the deal. But, then again, that was abstract in one's mind.

What really was the _bad _end of that deal?


	11. D9 train rides Aspect1

**So, uh... HEY! I put this chapter up quicker then last which was... about a week. Anyway, new account name is Aragorn's sidekick. I'm putting the story up on it tonight.**

**Rowena Maple, 17**

Lember Rye, age eighteen, one year older than me, and like me, volunteer for this year Hunger Games. We both have never interacted with each other, except for those rare times when I go to the bakery to buy bread but even then, the conversation is polite and not much is exchanged. I can tell however, that we are both very different and yet, the same.

He is serious as we converse, his dark brown eyes are cold and hard, impenetrable. Not like it matters much anyway, I am never good with reading people to begin with. We watch the replay of the reapings together, side by side. Occasionally, one of us would mention a tribute that looks like he or she could be useful to our alliance. No one wants to entertain the thought that eventually, we will have to kill allies. But it is for survival.

I find the Hunger Games disgusting. It is a form of sick entertainment to those at the Capitol. It forces one to bring out their most primitive of instincts to kill and survive. The Hunger Games is an event that goes by "kill or be killed". Unfortunately, most of us usually end up being the former. All except one who becomes Victor. It is every participant's dream to win, to survive. And then we have those who volunteers to be in it because they think it is honourable. Of course, that thinking only applies to the Career District. Usually.

I watch the District One tributes, my eyes taking them in and analyzing them. Everyone had a weak point. They were sure to have one as well. The screen changes to the District Two tributes next and so on and so forth. By the time the replay finishes, Lember and I have already decided our alliance. The only thing left is our mentor but he is missing along with the escort. That is fine by me though.

I walk over to the window and gaze out of it and at the blurring scenery. Soon, we will reach the Capitol and prepare for our Chariot Rides. Our stylists will dress us to the best of their abilities and put us on a carriage to be paraded and displayed to the people of the Capitol hungering for blood. And then, eventually, we will be thrown into the arena in which half of our survival depends solely on the sponsors to come and save us from whatever that may harm us.

I open my right hand, the hand that I've been keeping closed all this time. A stalk of wheat made from silver rests on my palm, glittering in the light. It was my mother's. She gave it to my younger sister, Bri, before she passed away. I received nothing in return and by that, I mean something physical. Instead, what I got was wise words from my mother, words that I will forever hold dear to my heart.

I look at my token and enclose my hand around it again. I will win and come back, for Bri and for my father. I have already lost a brother to an earlier Games, I cannot put my family through that torture again. I will come back as Victor and give them the life they so badly need. It is selfish of me to think like that but this are my own dreams, my own goal. And I will not let anyone get in the way of them.

The door leading to our rooms finally open and out comes our mentor. They are twins, actually. Hay Basmati is the older twin and female while the male Lye Basmati is the younger one. Hay will be mentoring me. I wonder where the escort is though, but then I decide I do not care.

They gesture for us to sit down and we sit. The air suddenly becomes a lot tenser as the grey-eyed twins regard us. They have black hair. Hay's hair is longer and goes past her shoulders. It is a little wavy and like us, they both have a bit of a tan as well. Lye's black hair is long for a man and his hair curls in such a way that they frame his face, making him look more sophisticated and refined. His sister, oddly enough, has a more roguish look to her and looks more carefree while Lye is serious.

"Have you decided on the alliance?" Lye asks, the first to break the silence.

"Yes," Lember and I answer simultaneously. Startled at how synchronised we are, we smile and start to laugh but are interrupted by Lye slamming his fist down on the table making the plates of food jump.

"This is not funny!" he snaps. "The people you team up with can easily define the number of days you live!"

Hay sighs and rolls her eyes at her brother's show of anger but her tone is stern when she speaks. "I hate to agree but Lye is right. In a matter of days, the two of you could very well end up dead. So please don't take this a joke."

Our mentors are completely serious. They want us to win, but why? Other than the obvious fact that we are the tributes they are mentoring of course.

"None of you deserve to die so early," Hay answers as if she just read my mind.

Lember and I share a look then we sober immediately.

"I understand," I reply.

"Good," Lye says.

We rattle off who we want to be in our alliance and the kind of weapons both of us are good at. Some are met with approval and others with a shake of the head. None of us share information about our personal lives. Our goal right now is to obtain the necessary skills to survive even if one becomes a monster in the process. But really, I rather I die than fall into insanity to win.

**Lember Rye, 18**

Rowena Maple intrigues me. I have heard of her before in our district. She is the 'big sister' there. I personally think the reason why she is so serious is because of her mother's death. Not like I will ever know nor do I care enough to ask her. It can be considered a breach of privacy if I do anyway.

Back home, I live a relatively normal life. My parents dote on my siblings and I and my mother takes care of us while my father works. While we can hardly be considered well-fed, we are one of the happier families in the district. Until I got reaped, that is.

After our mentors talk to us for a while and brief us on what we should and should not do, they leave for their rooms, leaving me and Rowena alone. Our escort, Lucia, is nowhere to be found but then both of us are happy if we don't get bothered by her. Rowena sits on the couch, curled up in one spot as she stares at her token. I look at mine; a silver bracelet with a corn accessory. It is from my younger sister.

"Rowena," I call and she stops fixating on her token to look at me. "Why did you volunteer?"

Hazel brown orbs blink several times at me, as if she finds my question astonishing.

"Bri still has a lot of things to discover. She's only fourteen while I'm seventeen." and she doesn't provide anymore information past that.

"Why did you volunteer?" she asks me.

"My brother..." I start then trail off. I didn't want to tell her why but considering the little time I have left... "He wouldn't live through the first day."

"Mine too," she answers softly.

We lapse into silence again and I sit beside her. Why am I talking to someone who is eventually going to die? I say that she is going to die with absolute certainty because I will live and come back. The Games, sadly, only allow for one Victor or else I won't mind sharing that coveted podium with her.

"Rowena," I say.

"Yeah?"

"When the time comes, let's fight to the death. May the stronger one win." I smile at her and hold my right fist out. She grins and bumps my fist with hers.

"Survival of the fittest." how true that is.

"Survival of the fittest," I echo.


	12. URGENT IMPORTANTNESS

**ARGH! I'M SO SORRY! I'VE BEEN SO PILED UP WITH SCHOOL THAT I DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER THIS SITE EXISTED! I'm sorry, anyway, I have something to say to both readers and authors.**

**Readers: The story will be moved to Awsomazing11's account, I'll still be writing though. And it will pretty much be the same so don't start cussing at Awsomazing and calling her a copy-cat and stuff when she puts up the story.**

**Authors: Like I said above Awsomazing will be posting and updating the story but I'll still do most of the organizing and stuff (not dumping everything on her... XD) And anyway, I'm pretty sure I sent you all the link to the Forum. Please just post in 'Basic' info so I know that you've seen it?**

**That is all, maybe next year when school's out I might be able to do another one and finish it before school starts and I get swamped :)**


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